


Sweet Dicks In My Mouth

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, monster!finland, monster/human
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-10 20:17:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1164047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Berwald grew to find it an endearing feature even if it meant Tino drooled significantly more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Dicks In My Mouth

**Author's Note:**

> de-anon for the kink meme where the prompt wanted an established relationship between a monster and a human. i put this on my tumblr but i figured why not throw it up here too.

Tino comes up behind him when he’s doing dishes, warm and soft as hands rest at his hips. Fingers inch and creep a little, tugging at belt loops, tracing the dip of his hip, and Berwald shudders in what’s likely anticipation.

"Dinner was great," Tino says into shoulder blades, punctuating it with a kiss, thinking about how he wished Berwald would do household duties shirtless. He gets a hum in reply, but not much more, and that’s okay. Tino’s learned to not expect much in ways of conversation.

"But, I’m still hungry."

Berwald isn’t surprised by this, and he knows very well the hunger isn’t one for food. He can feel it against his lower back, pressing between multiple layers of fabric. His anticipation builds just a little more and he breaths through his nose, carefully setting plates into the dish rack. Tino pulls one hand back and fusses with something for a moment before Berwald connects what he’d been doing. There’s a warmth spreading on his back, a slick press of muscle, and Tino’s arched even closer. It traces dimples and presses pinpricks into his skin - his stomach is still littered with the little pokes and scrapes of Tino’s control faltering from last time.

Maybe it was time to invest in a mouth guard.

"Eager?" He questions, reaching for a washcloth to dry his hands, addressing both the wiggling tongue and the growing stiffness pressed under his rear and against his thigh. Tino huffs and bites at his shoulder, but a mouthful of cloth isn’t very appealing and he pinches his stomach instead. Berwald smiles one of his minuscule smiles, amused by the reaction.

"Don’t make fun of me because I know how to ask for sex unlike you Mr. We’ve Been Together For Two Years But I’m Still Going to Suffer Silently With This Boner Because I Don’t Know How To Express Myself."

Berwald flushes. “S’not true,” he defends, fully confident that it isn’t, and even if it is he’s gotten better. Leaps and bounds better. Tino should be praising him, not nipping at his insecurities. “Started it last time,” he adds.

"Fine, I’ll give you that, let’s stop talking about it and start discussing better things. Like why we’re not making out." Berwald chuckles at that, turning so he can appease his better half, and Tino doesn’t hesitate. Lips press into his, a sweet demand to melt and open up, which he doesn’t refuse. His back tingles vaguely as cold air slips past his shirt against the patch of saliva left there.

Their tongues meet, sliding and pressing against each other in time to steadily rutting hips. Tino’s other tongue intrudes up the front of his shirt, dragging a trail to his naval, and he can hardly fathom a time when that’d been weird. When he’d jump and startle every time, unadjusted and overwhelmed. The increased sensations could still cause that, still be a little much much - enough to drive him up a wall and have him squirming in anything but discomfort as it’d once been.

Tino pushes Berwald back against the counter, and he’s smart enough to know there’s a likely possibility of ending up with lines that match the tiles on his ass - again - if he lets Tino have his way. Not that he’s particularly picky about where they enjoy themselves, but he does have a certain preference for the bed. It’s where he feels most comfortable, even if there is something significantly hot about getting screwed against the living room window, or vice versa.

Shoving those thoughts aside, though they do add to the tightness in his pants, he pulls back and side steps away from Tino while he’s stuck in post-makeout haze. “Bedroom,” Berwald insists and there’s an argument in those beautiful violets he wears, but he doesn’t voice it. Instead he smiles and Berwald admires the way he’s rolled his shirt up, the soft muscles of his chest that lead down to what separates them as a species.

At the start of their relationship Berwald had been unnerved by the second mouth, the sharpened teeth that look as if they were made for tearing flesh and the tongue which could extend to a shocking - mildly disturbing - length and had an impressive amount of flexibility and dexterity. It wasn’t exactly something someone wanted near their dick, he definitely didn’t, but things were different now. Sacrifices had to be made, fears had to be conquered, and Berwald grew to find it an endearing feature even if it meant Tino drooled significantly more.

"If you keep staring I’m going to be tempted to kiss you again and then we’ll never make it to the bedroom," Tino says to snap him out of his musings. Berwald nods, adjusts his pants a little, and starts towards the doorway. Tino’s quick to follow, shoving his hands around the taller man and into his front pockets, turning the walk into an awkward little waddle, filled with all the warmth and love he could ever need, along with a boner against his ass which was probably the real intention of the whole thing.

They make it to the room with no incident and Tino peels himself away to quickly shed his clothes. Berwald takes the opportunity to sit on the bed and watch while he removes his socks, the stretch of Tino’s torso when he pulls his shirt off, tossing it aside. The mouth on his stomach flexes and Berwald knows his monster boyfriend is relieved by the gesture. His mouth doesn’t enjoy being confined by fabric, if he wears something for too long it’ll start chewing right though the material unless it’s a special brand that is especially expensive. Usually he doesn’t wear them around the house, but it’d been chilly and there was no sense in extra heating cost when he could just put on something with sleeves.

Berwald’s own shirt joins the pile, along with his socks, but he doesn’t get a chance to start on his pants before Tino’s on the bed. There’s a mouth against his own and hands on his shoulders, coaxing him so he’s laying down as he’s absolutely ravaged by the kiss. Desperation leeks through the hasty movement of jaws and the tongue shoved down his throat. Tino groans and twitches as Berwald drags his tongue along the roof of his mouth in payback, an uncomfortable tickle.

He’s straddling one thigh, his knee between Berwald’s leg, and how easy it’d be to just rock against it. Instead his raises the leg under Tino, pushing his thigh up against him where he could feel his erection through his boxers and the own fabric of his jeans. Tino groans again, lower, a little frustrated, and he pulls away while his hips rock down beyond his control. Drool drips onto Berwald’s stomach where the second mouth hovers above and he can only be thankful the salivating is something he’d gotten used to - mostly.

Tino takes to biting along the strong line of his jaw, follows it all the way to his ear, and when he sucks on the lobe it earns a particularly pleasing noise from Berwald. Breathy and low. Any noise from him is beautiful, really, and well earned from all the patience he put into finding out just how to work Berwald’s body and get him to realize making noise was okay. In the early months he’d held back from embarrassment, as he did with most everything else. Getting him to a point where he felt comfortable to just moan and sigh in pleasure without restraint was incredible. His human’s comfort and feeling of safety was what came first in these matters, after all.

His lower tongue ventures out to lap at the skin of Berwald’s stomach. It wiggles and squirms, pressing down heavily into the well defined muscles. Excited and hungry, Tino doubts his ability to extend foreplay when his body his already getting out of hand. Berwald isn’t even fully hard, he notes with a bit of a hit to his ego, whereas his own cock straining against his boxers, which he really regrets not taking off now.

As Tino moves down, mouth running along his neck, Berwald shifts to rub himself against the knee still invading the spread of his legs. He wants more - more pressure and heat. Tino bites at his neck, sucks, worries it until it’s red and blotchy and then makes another mark just a little ways down. He won’t even bother with trying to hide them like he used to, that never got him much of anywhere. Tino would always just remake them, holding a particular interest in how they looked against Berwald’s skin. Popped vessels of love and lust. His fascination was almost a little morbid and creepy, but for all his outward appearances he was still a monster.

His efforts against Berwald’s neck he gets a moan and a shudder as he throws a hand into the mixture to scrape nails down the man’s side. Berwald wants to kiss him again, wants to drag him close and hold onto him while they rock and grind together even if he’s still not completely hard. Tino’s mouth hitches over his collar bone and he feels the press of his lower tongue against his abdomen, sharper teeth a safe distance from catching his skin. He knows what it wants, and to this day he still gets a little embarrassed from it.

Tino continues on a downward slope to his chest, biting at a pec before turning his attention to the better prize. Berwald practically whines when Tino drags his tongue over a nipple, chuckling in the process. “Have I told you you’re cute lately, Ber?” He hums and Berwald’s blush deepens. He’d like to argue about how the real cute one is doing positively evil things with his tongues but he can’t quite gets the words out and lets his a frustrated groan be his answer.

"Open your legs a little more," Tino says as he lifts himself off Berwald’s thigh, instead settling between his legs entirely when Berwald does as he’s told. He grabs at the man’s hips, rubs circles into them, and when Berwald catches his gaze his eyes are gleaming through the dull light of their room. A predatory look that goes straight to his cock and has him grinding his hips up impatiently. Tino laughs, smiles, and shifts himself again. His hands go under Berwald, dragging him up a little so he can feel the press of hardness against his ass through his jeans, along with a wet pressure at the front of his pants.

It’ll never not be unnerving to have his crotch barely a breath away from a set of angry looking teeth, but it’s something Berwald has learned to embrace. The vulnerability he felt was thrilling when it’d once been terrifying. Okay, it’s still sort of terrifying, there’s no escaping that, but it’s definitely anything but a turn off.

Tino laughs and Berwald forces his eyes up to look at him, finding that he’d been looking down as well to the writhing eagerness of his lower tongue. Berwald can feel the drool soaking through his pants, more so than usual, and it’s endearing how little Tino can hide his own want sometimes. “It’s really into this tonight, isn’t it? I guess you should probably give it what it wants before it gets nippy.” His cock throbs at that and Tino’s stomach isn’t the only thing burning with desire at the moment.

"Callin’ part of yourself ‘it’ doesn’t make it any less a part of ya, Tino. Think we both know who’s wantin’ what," Berwald retorts, forcing his voice into relative stability and clarity. Tino pouts and grinds against him, taking the stuttered moan as an apology. His legs go on supporting Berwald and he brings his hands around to fuss with getting the pants undone, his straining cock lamenting his own haste in not allowing them to undress entirely beforehand.

With some fumbling he manages to get them undone and unzipped, ignoring the wet, stickiness of the fabric as he pulls them down some to expose Berwald’s underwear, and more importantly the bulge still restrained. “You’re such a hypocrite,” he huffs as he grabs the waistband to peel them down just enough to let Berwald’s cock free. “Just look at how hard you are.” Tino’s just back far enough so his greedy tongue doesn’t reach, allowing him the freedom to run fingers along the length without interruption. Berwald breaths heavily through his nose, arches his hips up and towards the touch, his toes curling into the bedspread under them.

Tino wraps his hand around him and gives him a couple of good strokes, long and slow, just to be a tease. Teasing is hard, though, when he wants to do little more than bury himself in Berwald and replace his hand with his tongue. He rubs his thumb against the slit to distract himself, bites his lip at the noise it produces. Berwald looks gorgeous, sweat beading along his skin, head pressed back into the pillow. His glasses are still on, but Tino doesn’t bother with them for now, it’s not like he intends to do anything that’ll risk them getting broken. Berwald likes it better anyways, being able to see everything in clear detail. His mouth is twisted down and his hands fisted into the blanket, tensing as Tino strokes him again.

As pretty of a show as it is his resolve can only hold out for so long. The loss of contact causes Berwald to grunt in disapproval, opening his eyes to look at Tino with faint accusation, but Tino pays it no mind. Instead he tackles the task of getting pants off, Berwald being helpful by lifting his legs when prompted, and it requires minimal movement on Tino’s part thanks to how flexible the man is. Once jeans and briefs are thrown aside he shuffles out of his own boxers, breathing in relief at the lack of any sort of constriction.

He slides back in closer, not missing the way Berwald widens his legs more, an open invitation if there ever was one. His lower tongue hangs over his teeth, Tino still not allowing himself to be quite close enough for it to get what it wants. He rests his hands on Berwald’s thighs, presses his fingers into the skin and muscle, and smiles at the man. “Get the lube before I forget it.” And Berwald’s pretty thankful Tino did remember and hadn’t just opted for his lower mouth’s saliva. Not that it wasn’t a decent substitute, but not preferable. He reaches over to the night stand and pulls it from the drawer, holding it out to be taken.

The process is a little hasty, Tino a little eager, and as he slips two lube covered fingers into Berwald the man sucks in a breath. Wouldn’t have killed Tino to warm it up first, but the chill subsides, or at least becomes easy to ignore, when the fingers begin to move. Tino sets a quick, rough pace - waits for Berwald to rock down against his fingers before sliding in another one and curling it. He says something in Swedish, a plea maybe, and his tendency to slip back into the language when he can’t think is adorable. Tino scissors his fingers, pushes them in deeper, and Berwald’s sounds start to turn frustrated with want.

Deciding to spare him the embarrassment of begging he pulls his fingers out and lets his curious tongue inspect them, getting spit all over his own hand. That’s not where the appendage is most interested in, however, and Tino knows it. He gathers more lube and coats his hardened length with it, sighing pleasantly at his first real skin on skin contact to that area for the evening. At this rate he could even settle for jerking off with as worked up as he was, but he resists the urge. There’s something much better waiting for him.

Tino settles right against Berwald, radiating heat and desire. He can smell it on Berwald, too, rolling off him in waves. “Ready?” he asks, encase some change of mind was made, but Berwald just mutters and nods. It’s all Tino needs, easing himself into the entrance as oppose to claiming him harshly like his instincts wanted. Once he’s down to the hilt his tongue goes for what it wants, pressing against Berwald’s cock with a good amount of enthusiasm. Berwald groans, tormented by the varying sensations, the slick tongue and the burn of Tino filling him entirely. It’s times like these he pities anyone dating a double mouth that didn’t have it on their stomach, perfectly positioned for what Tino was doing. They were really missing out on something incredibly overwhelming.

Berwald snaps his hips up into the coil of the tongue, squirming against it as it rubbed against his head. With all his moving about Tino can’t keep himself still, pulling back and pushing in, shaking the man’s body further. He repeats the movement, thrusting in deeply, hands on either side of Berwald’s torso to support himself. His tongue slips with every thrust, pulling back unwillingly, adding to the friction on Berwald’s cock that had him short of breath and unable to even think of anything but Tino.

The snap of Tino’s hips gets more aggressive and leads him into bending over Berwald, his breath hot against his skin and sharper teeth a little too close to his dick for comfort. Berwald doesn’t have time to care, not when that tongue is working him for all he’s worth, dragging up and down along his length with fever and heat. It lingers at the slit, anxiously lapping at precum while Tino takes him roughly. He moves a hand down, uses it to grab at Berwald’s thigh and haul his leg up a little to change the position slightly. His grip is tight, bruising even, with blunt nails that press hard while he adjusts himself in turn and uses the new angel to get in even deeper. Berwald keens, reduced to a gasping mess as Tino hits him just right while his tongue strokes right under the head of his cock.

Berwald can’t do much more than arch into the differing experiences. Tino kisses his skin and lower teeth catch slightly when a thrust brings him in a little too close, not enough to hurt, but enough to throw him right over the edge. Before he can even think of the proper warning he’s coming, riding it out with a violent buck of his hips. Tino’s tongue is right there and ready, lapping at the mess of white that comes from him, intensifying the already blinding pleasure. He tenses around Tino, continues to drag his hips down onto him until he’s being filled by Tino’s own climax.

They rock against each other as the sensations slowly subside until finally Tino straightens up and pulls himself out. Berwald sighs at the loss and the realization of being very sticky. He sits up, slowly, hands shaking with after shocks, and Tino smiles at him. “You’re okay, right?” He asks, scooting closer, careful to avoid the mess that’s mostly his fault.

"Pretty sure," Berwald assures, scratching at his stomach, still littered with the spots that Tino’s teeth had caused last time. The damage isn’t bad this time, and he wonders if his monster had been holding back for that reason. It’s not something he asks, instead choosing to kiss those smiling lips before rising. "M’gonna shower."

Standing’s an effort, legs still shaken, but Tino’s on his feet to support him quick enough. “I’ll join you.”


End file.
